


A Wish the Heart Makes

by Airetam



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Awkward Boners, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams, F/M, Friendship/Love, Interspecies Relationship(s), Morning Wood, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Saucy Wholesome Fluff, Spooning, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Written before season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 09:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airetam/pseuds/Airetam
Summary: Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask.As a nearly 15 year old boy, experiencing a moment of specific awkwardness in the morning just comes with the territory - except Callum never expected his body as well as his heart to betray him in such a way, forcing his mind to confront a truth he's been afraid to admit for some time.A revealing dream sets into motion an introspective journey to the acceptance of certain feelings.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 244





	A Wish the Heart Makes

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a crack fic about Callum having large hands and how that's a euphemism that both gave me a stroke but also this crazy idea for a fic. Callum had Things™ to say though and it became whatever this is. Happy reading!
> 
> Bring on Season 3! woo!

Callum awoke with a jerk, grogginess still lingering over his mind like a thick mist. A warm contented feeling draped over him in lieu of a blanket. He didn't usually wake so abruptly unless he'd been dreaming. It was rather like laying happily dazed after running full speed head first into a wall, which he actually had first hand experience doing. What was more concerning, however, was how hot he felt. Not feverish, but still very warm. Warmer than normal.

The last time Callum could recall rousing with any kind of feeling even resembling warmth was the first night at the Moon Nexus. He'd been completely exhausted from the adventure of ascending the caldera, battling illusions, and hatching Zym, that he simply dropped off to sleep and woke up utterly disoriented from the soft bed, warm blankets, and the sense of security being indoors granted.

That same disoriented sensation crept into his emerging awareness.

Something seemed...off.

The warmth was intense. Almost like gulping down steaming spiced cider and feeling it heat him from the inside.

Understandable then that waking up with blazing warmth from throughout the tips of his toes to the tip of his nose was somewhat alarming. Usually first thing in the morning it was always a bit damp and chilly from the fading coolness of night. Zym would eagerly be headbutting him from slumber or if Rayla beat him to it she would persistently shake his shoulder until Callum was conscious enough to not doze off again. There was never any warmth bathing him like flaming heat pouring from a fire in the morning.

  
Callum's mind stirred faster as he puzzled out the mystery.

As the last wisps of sleepiness eased its grip he became more fully aware of the unnatural heat searing all along his back even through his tunic and jacket. Callum’s eyes snapped open. There was a weight on his side that affirmed his mounting suspicions.

Rayla was right behind him.

She was pressed up flush against his back with her knees tucked sweetly behind his and an arm around his middle. Hyper-aware now, he could feel the light puffs of breath through his scarf from where her face rested at his nape, steadily breathing the scent of him in.

_This is how I die._

Callum froze, mid-breath, and felt as if he’d tripped the entire way down a flight of stairs. His stomach jolted the same time his chest lurched and throat tightened. Heart racing he feared the force of it pounding against where her hand loosely clutched at his shirt might wake her.

_I'm going to die._

He reminded himself he had to breathe. Rayla was a warrior. An elite warrior - a trained assassin even. She probably had super honed senses and could detect the minutest changes in her surroundings. He'd seen her dodge arrows! As a peak fighter she would just simply _know_ , even in her sleep, that something was amiss. Callum managed a hitched breath. Air in. Air out. When she didn’t move or show any sign of wakefulness his breathing evened out. The tense line of his shoulders eased and his bulging eyes relaxed. He sighed.

_Is it possible to faint while already lying down?_

Callum absolutely did not think about how well she fit against him, comparing it to the way ancient stones nestled together so well through time that mortar wasn't even needed to hold them. He very carefully didn't think about the wave of affection that overwhelmed him at the hand that rested over his heart like a war banner unfurled, staking a claim. He didn't think about how safe and cared for and wanted he felt with her literally having his back. No, he absolutely did not think about the sheer thrill of waking up with Rayla cuddled snug against him, spooning him in her sleep.

No, he didn't think about that. At All. Nope. Instead he valiantly scraped together what was left of his brainpower to think about what, if not the warmth at his back, had woken him so suddenly and so early that Rayla was still asleep.

The barest recollection of a dream snagged upon his thoughts. What had he been dreaming? Eyes shut he focused harder. Whiteness. Snow. A cold so hot it burned and made him sweat. A barren landscape. Red rock. Glaring sun.

In his mind’s eye he could picture brief snatches of the dream playing out. There was the snow-nami right before Zym had been dropped into the frozen lake. Tumbling, buried in snow before gasping for breath once breaking through to the surface. Gasping for breath again once seeing a toned, shapely behind and impossibly long, slender athletic legs encased in soft, leather thigh-high boots sticking up through the snow. It wasn’t an image that would be leaving him anytime soon. If ever.

The rest of the dream hit all at once like a punch to the gut.

His eyes popped open.

_Oh._

He realized exactly what woke him.

  
The flare of heat that shot up his spine made him certain what being struck by lightning would feel like. Goosebumps erupted along his arms like trails of lava, his head absolutely spinning, breathing sharp and ragged before he manged to force himself to find a more even rhythm, biting his lip. It amazed him how hotly his face burned since it didn't seem possible that his body could spare for coloring his face in a blush.

  
How!? How could he have missed this? There was an actual inferno radiating from the bulge straining his pants, heat searing along where it pressed against the material. The bottom of his shirt did little to obscure it and his trousers' black fabric, while being able to camouflage other things, was a complete failure at hiding his arousal. His eyes almost rolled back into his skull with the sensation now that he was aware of it, mouth dropping open in a soundless moan. He couldn't think like this. Couldn't breathe. There was just heat.

  
He’d been lucky so far. After the one morning with his brother asking about peanut butter sandwiches Callum hadn’t had quite an…eventful morning like that since. At least nothing that stuck around once he put his mind towards other things and certainly nothing to this extreme. It wasn't like there was much privacy in any case, so he was relieved it hadn't been much of a problem. Sure there were times when his satchel or sketchbook came in handy as a shield, but for the most part he hadn't had any overtly embarrassing incidents. He figured it was the exhaustion of traveling combined with the stress and the admittedly emotional toll of their quest since fleeing home. Usually he wasn’t nearly so lucky.

  
Callum had only been a bit older than Ezran himself when he’d woken with this specific issue and the resulting aftermath. He panicked, of course. Left in a rush after cleaning up, anxiety alleviating his condition and sought out the court physician, fearing something horrible. The grizzled man chuckled and kindly explained that Callum was a young man now and apparently in very good health. He’d taken Callum for a walk to the stables and had him watch a mare and stallion together out in the pasture as he explained the mechanics and related terminology to what Callum was seeing.

  
He’d tried to block that unfortunate experience out, but at this particular moment Callum found himself commiserating ever so slightly with the horses. The memory was still vivid after all the years and he could recall nickering and a lot of movement as well as the impression of frantic, rough forcefulness.

  
A groan slipped out and he froze again, eyes snapped open waiting for death to take him.

  
He'd been back in his dream just then, imagining a similar passion and urgency.

  
_Can mortification be a cause of death?_

  
He wished he wasn’t in the habit of answering his own questions. He wished he could just disappear, roll onto his stomach and hump away at the ground until he could get some relief and just drift back to sleep. Most of all though, he wished he hadn’t remembered the dream or how it had ended.

  
Callum supposed he should be thankful he'd woken up when he did. At least this way he'd be making a dash for the river the first chance he got not to clean up but to cool down.

  
He could hear his brother's cherubic, innocent voice. Ignorant and pure. 

_It could be more up_.

The comment wasn't about his hair.

The urge to laugh in hysterics clawed at his throat. Now that he was fully cognizant of the heat and pressure blazing at the front of his pants Callum couldn’t help but fidget, trying to adjust without risking a reach down to situate himself into a more manageable position. His hips squirmed. If he could just - ah, there!

  
Rayla's arm tugged him tighter back against her as she nuzzled further into his scarf with a muffled, sleepy whine. Her hand started to move and Callum was certain his heart would explode from how fast it was thudding against his chest. Surely she could feel it flinging itself against his ribs in a last ditch effort to both kill and save him.

  
An icy dread filled him, freezing him in place. Her hand patted at his chest slowly trailing downwards in a way that made him grow dizzy and lightheaded and even stiffer. Her fingers left burning, tingling sparks in their wake. The vaguely groping movement called to mind a person blindly feeling along a wall, searching and mapping their way forward in the dark.

  
_Is she looking for me in her dreams?_

  
He was helpless against how the thought made the ice in him thaw and melt into pure sunlight.

  
“I’m right here. We're safe. Don’t worry,” Callum whispered, voice hoarse. That he could even speak at all through his dry throat was a feat and, encouraged by it, he willed himself to move. He cautiously, ever so gently covered her hand with his, stilling it to prevent it from roving further and slid it back up over his heart. “You got me, Rayla. I'm here.”

A moment passed. When she didn't move again the throbbing in his chest settled and shifted to a steady throbbing against the taut material of his pants. If he could just close his eyes and concentrate instead on the sensation of her delicate, strong hand under his maybe he could ignore it and it’d go away on its own. No, wrong thing to do. That wasn't working at all. To distract himself he dug back into the memory of the day he’d learned about certain facts of life.

  
Still gaping at the horses' activity, Callum hears King Harrow approach, out of breath and clearly having rushed over to him.

  
“Rygel, did you really have to show him things this way? It was bad enough going through it myself, but Callum, too?” Harrow grumbled.

  
The physician guffawed, exchanged a few words and left. Callum turned to look up at Harrow, ready to face the embarrassment in exchange for understanding his body and the changes the physician had blathered on about.

  
“I got here as soon as I could once I heard where you had gone and who with. I’m sorry about Rygel, Callum, but I suppose it is better this way. Everything out in the open.” Harrow looked out at the horses and grimaced. Adopting a careful matter-of-fact tone he spoke, “I was a bit older than you when ol’ Rygel took me down here because I was growing up. You probably already heard his lecture about how you're well on your way to being a young man and your body is letting you known it’s healthy. Well, did you know this is all perfectly normal? Normal for people and animals, too.” He laughed and gestured at the horses. "It’s natural. Do you want to talk about it? I’ll do my best to listen and answer anything the best I can.”

  
Callum could have hugged his step-dad with the reassurance offered. “Can we go somewhere else first?” He slowly looked back at the pasture and pulled a face. Harrow laughed again and slung an arm around Callum’s shoulders to steer him back towards the main castle.

  
“Is it always like that? Like with the horses I mean? It just – it didn’t look - It - it seemed like the boy horse was sort of hurting the girl horse.”

Harrow sighed deeply and didn’t reply right away.

  
“Horses are animals, Callum. They have instincts and urges to guide them. Animals know to care for their young, teach them to survive and protect them. They also know when to couple and mate, but it’s more instinct than anything else.” Callum hung on to every word. “People also have instincts and urges, but when you act solely on them what does that make you? An animal.” Harrow stopped walking to look him in the eye, a serious gravity in his voice now.

  
What followed was a life changing discussion easing into the topics of bodily urges, as well as attraction, consent, courtship and love. How they all related and how they all came back to his body's reaction that morning.

  
This morning.

  
NO, no, no - thinking about this wasn't working. It was just drawing things out. And he knew it. He couldn't pretend anymore that he wanted the moment to end. He couldn't pretend that Rayla's arms were a place he wanted to slip away from or that he wanted to calm down, dismiss things, and pretend that Rayla didn't effect him. That this was all just a fluke of his body. The truth was...he found her captivating, distracting - an impossibility.

  
It was one thing to know his friend was attractive, but it was completely different to know he was attracted to said friend. So he'd played the fool. It was easy. It was safe. There was nothing between them. They _were_ just friends. He'd even managed to fool himself until she took his hand, twined her fingers with his and resolutely proclaimed to an archdragon the virtues of one particular human who was worth sparing. One human who she opened her heart to and considered her best friend. The strength of her words, the display of loyalty and respect, the level of commitment and admiration she revealed completely undid him, teasing him with a hope that he was entirely unprepared for.

  
Callum wasn't stupid. He had eyes. He was more than well aware that Rayla was, in a word, striking. After all the time spent trekking across Katolis and Xadia he couldn't help but take special note of her fit, lean figure or her proud warrior's posture of squared shoulders and confident poise. He'd spent plenty of time noticing her eyes, the lavender shade mesmerizing. He tried not to make it obvious that he observed - or, more plainly, marveled at - her distinctly elven features of horns, face markings, four-fingered hands and long, elegantly pointed ears. He considered her perpetually moonlit, windblown hair coupled with her, yes, _quite_ daring attitude an addition to her appeal. Then there was her smile. Her laugh.

  
He knew she was beautiful.

  
He also knew that as alluring as she was on the outside, her inner beauty entirely eclipsed it.

  
Her dynamic spirit, her energy and vibe, her wit and humor, her determination and bravery, her thoughtfulness and kindness - all of it and more surpassed however beautiful he found her appearance.

  
It was hard, Callum thought. It was so difficult being friends with someone so beautiful. That's what it came down to: Rayla trusted him to be her friend. And he...well, he thought her beautiful in a way that he knew transcended friendship. How could he be so selfish? How could he betray that trust? To hope for more from her. Wasn't it miracle enough that she had become his ally, a comrade and friend? Best friend? She was a Moonshadow elf and he a human and incredibly, remarkably, they were friends. Good friends. Close friends. But that's where the line had to be. Could only be.

  
Ezran had convinced him once to sneak outside to a tavern after dark where they swiped pretzel bread and hid up in the rafters playing a game of spymaster. They both listened in on a table of rowdy guardsmen talking a pint or so into a discussion of the elves at the Breach. Any talk of elves was almost like a spooky ghost story, as untethered from reality as a mythical legend. It immediately caught their attention.

  
"They're demons! What with their horns and fangs. Birthed right outta hellfire, if you ask me." This from an older man, short and bearded. "Yeah, terrifying. Unnatural eyes and just vicious, bloodthirsty the lot of 'em. Brr! Gives me nightmares, they do." This from a man with a facial scar. "I dunno. Some of 'em can be easy on the eyes. The women could climb me like a tree and I'd die happy. I mean, their ears sure are something else, right?" This from a younger man, wiping his mouth after taking a gulp of ale.

  
Not one laughed or joked. They had all gone still and silent, staring aghast at the guardsman who'd just spoken.

  
"Easy...on th' eyes, you say? You - you find the butchers enticing, you do? They getcha all hot n' bothered? You sicken me!" This spat in the man's face. "You're a real freak, looking at them and what? Liking their knife ears? What's wrong with you, boy!" This growled with a fist slammed onto the table. "You sure being in the battalion is for you? 'Cause it sure sounds like you'd turn a blind eye for a fun little adventure to write home about. A lovely she-elf to help you take your chances at - at - animal husbandry. Goats might be a good place to start though. What with the horns an' all." This snarled, cruel and spiteful with a shove to the chest.

  
The soldiers were all standing now, one of the chairs knocked back on the ground. Callum knew a fistfight was just seconds away, the young guard backed into a corner. He grabbed his brother's arm and quickly lead him back the way they had come. In the dark attic passageway Ezran looked up at him, blue eyes big and confused.

  
"Callum, why'd they all get so angry? He was just saying some elves have nice ears and can...climb well, I guess? What's animal hus-ban-tree mean?"

  
Callum knew it'd been meant as an grave insult. As soon as he put the pieces together a hot flush covered his face and neck, jaw gaping in shock. How could anyone think, never mind say, such a horrible, repulsive thing? He wanted to clap a hand over his brother's mouth and make him swear to never repeat the term, but knew that would just invite more questions.

  
"Um, it j-just means a type of farmer. It's a special farmer who looks after animals and is like a doctor for them sometimes. For when they need to have babies and stuff. You remember Donna the cow? It's like that."

  
Ezran's brown scrunched up. "So why's it bad to want to be a farmer with an elf and help animals start a family?"

  
Callum ran a hand down his face. He needed to sidestep this somehow. There was no way he'd be explaining what had been said. "It's just, umm, not something a soldier usually does? Soldiers are tough and fight a lot, so it's kinda different one would want to, ahhh, take care of animals with a elf and - look, just forget it. I'm no good at explaining stuff. Let's just go. We need to get back."

  
"I think you've always been pretty good at explaining things. But ok." And away they went, the event seemingly forgotten.

  
Back then Callum had been more caught up in thinking about the expression of someone being climbed like a tree rather than the obscene insult, but what really stayed with him afterward was how immediately the soldier's comrades had vilified and turned on him for an offhand comment. How ugly and hostile things had become so quickly.

  
Was he like that guardsman? An outlier, a freak, someone sick in the head?

  
In his heart he knew he wasn't, but were other people able to see it his way, too?

  
Elves were interesting. There was so much undiscovered culture and magic linked to their people and to reduce them to demonic animals, monsters good just for killing was unspeakable. Callum curled his hand around Rayla's, a faraway look in his eyes. It was true elves and humans didn't trust each other, warred with each other and spread the vilest hearsay about each other. Were hateful and prejudiced. He remembered his aunt Amaya at the Banthor Lodge and having to hide the truth from her because he knew she would kill first and ask questions later. He thought of the little girl, Ellis, and Lujanne and wondered if their outlook was as rare as a three-legged wolf. He knew in his heart that wanting peace, wanting to learn from and befriend elves was something many people wouldn't understand and would condemn him for. He'd be called a traitor, fraternizing with the enemy and worse.

  
All he hoped for was to make a difference, be one of the heroes who helped stop the fighting and needless death, but in his lessons of history and battles he'd been taught that every war had its traitors. He never once thought he'd be one of them.

  
At least he and Rayla could be traitors together.

  
He shifted his hold on her hand and stroked his thumb along her knuckles. Maybe it was better that Rayla wouldn't ever be the same kind of traitor he was. When she looked at him all she saw was her curious human friend, smooth skulled and five-fingered. A human whose only particular skill of note was the ability to demonstrate his ineptitude and be a good-natured nuisance.

  
Well, that wasn't entirely fair. He could ruffle fur real good and had the use of a zap hand now.

  
Yes, it was better he was only a friend who could barely be called a mage and had a passable talent at art. He scoffed at himself. Would she consider the way he held her in his thoughts politely flattering or revolting? Could she ever even look at him not just as an equal and trusted friend, but as someone she _liked_ , someone she would wake up next to frozen with nerves and with her heart beating so fast it would work its way up into her throat?

  
It was strange. With Claudia he'd simply wanted to hold her hand, but with Rayla he wanted her to want him to want her to hold his hand. Oh, he really was losing his mind. _You’re not afraid of being afraid of being afraid._

  
He knew he shouldn't but he escaped back to the dream. If he allowed this last trip into a refuge of his own making maybe he'd be able to quietly accept his feelings and then place them back in the dark where they belonged.

  
The dream revisited Rayla's legs in a variety of settings he remembers across their journey. There were glimpses of the play of muscle as she moved, the close-fitting fabric of the pants she wore doing nothing to conceal the divot along the length of her thigh when she flexed a certain way. He saw snippets of her moving and running, leaping and climbing, tumbling and stalking. Standing over him, eyebrow cocked and smirk in place. Dangerous, but in the good way.

  
The dream changed to the canyon Sol Regem terrorized them in. The air dry with sandy dust and the heat of the sun glaring white and blinding. Rayla full of reluctance to separate and lure the archdragon yet knowing it was time to act. Tensions pulled tight like a bowstring from the uncertainty and adrenaline. Dream Callum snatched her hand as she made to leave and pulled her in close.

  
"We need to both make it through this. A human prince and a Moonshadow elf working together to return the Dragon Prince to his mother - that's the gesture that matters now."

  
"Callum, none of this will matter if you don't ever make it to the Dragon Queen to return Zym anyhow. I've got to try. There's no turning back." Her eyes were glinting.

  
"Rayla, no. Please. We protect each other." Dream Callum spoke lowly, fiercely, on the verge of pleading, full of feeling he could never actually divulge.

  
"You're right. And it's my turn now. I can't promise you how this is going to end, but that's why I have to do this. To protect you. Please, just let me do this." She faltered for a moment, weighing her words. "You know how I feel about you, right?" A soft whisper.

  
"How we _both_ feel. Yes."

  
"Good."

  
This time she was the one to take hold of his hands and pull him in close as she stepped back against the canyon wall into cool shadow.

  
"Y'know, words aren't the only thing that tell people what you're feeling," she said this right by his ear, breathy and hot, encouraging. Callum tilted his head ever so slightly to meet her eyes and in a fit of bravery his darted down at her lips and up. Her eyes were shimmering when she glanced at his lips then met his gaze. Back and forth their eyes went as they both slowly leaned in closer, testing and gauging every reaction.

  
Careful with one another. Tender. Gentle with the other's heart.

  
His nose brushed alongside hers and her mouth went slack with a gasp. She angled herself to drag her nose slowly up and down along his, reciprocating. Their rapid breaths mingled, eyes fluttered closed, then their lips were touching. Warm, soft, sweet. Electrifying. They pulled back to lock gazes, seeking confirmation with each other that they could scorch the line between them to ashes.

  
They moved at the same time. Callum shifted forward, cupping her face and enfolding her waist, letting her feel the breadth of his chest as he pressed against her. Rayla's arms flung around him, one at his shoulders with her fingers in his hair and the other burrowing under his jacket to grip his back. Their mouths all but crashed together, an echo of the desperation they felt to erase any doubt or distance between them.

  
That would have to be enough.

  
Callum's eyes opened, unsure of when they'd closed to lose himself back in the dream. His lips were burning and he felt an emphatic surge of excitement twitch from below.

  
He had to leave now and pray he'd be able to look her in the eye later.

  
Holding his breath he started to extract himself from her warmth. Sliding her arm off proved to be much easier than he thought, and he awkwardly managed to get to his feet after tending to himself for a quick moment. Zym was fast asleep in his cloak on Rayla's other side at the small of her back. Callum took a few precious seconds to commit the picture they made, sleeping so soundly with her arm sprawled out where he'd been. 

  
Without a thought he took his scarf off and placed it in her hand. That was something a friend would do, right? He needed to just be her friend again. Knowing she could wake up at any moment, he loosely sketched a landscape of a stream as explanation in case she found him gone and worried. After setting the book down Callum turned his back and stiffly made his way towards the river.

  
He never once saw the purple eyes opened into the barest of slits, watching him retreat.

  
Wishing.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I know how intimidating it can be to comment. 
> 
> Where the heck do you start, right? 
> 
> To help you get the ball rolling and make it less stressful, let's make it into a game.  
> Just let me know what one of your favorite desserts is if you liked the story or you can tell me your least favorite vegetable if you gave it a chance but still didn't like.  
> Example: I really like fudge brownies.  
> Example: I can't stand overcooked, soggy yellow squash. 
> 
> This is my first fic. Readers, help me celebrate with a comment.  
> A simple word or note really does mean a lot.  
> Thanks for reading! :)


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